


‘Till You Bade us Adieu

by godDAMNitlaurens



Series: Guardians!AU [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Guardians!AU, Hamilton the lawyer/librarian, Laurens the soldier, M/M, Missing Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godDAMNitlaurens/pseuds/godDAMNitlaurens
Summary: He was a lover, not a fighter. That’s how it’s always been; until Laurens is forced into working in the military, by his father's wishes, despite him having a family of his own. Before the military, all he had to do was be a supportive and loving father and husband, but now, he must also focus on staying alive for the good of his family.





	1. Familiar Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> An angsty AU I created a while ago, but only now am I posting it. I wrote the bulk of it already, so most of this should be posted soon, unless I decide to change it up.

Everything had gone to hell. 

Everywhere he looked, spilled blood stained the beautiful green grass. Bodies were scattered all over the battlefield, some moving, others not. He looked down at his remaining hand, finding that it too, was covered in the liquid plasma, like most of his surroundings- 

_“Laurens! Get over here!”_ A voice hissed from behind. John André yanked his fellow soldier down into the tall grasses, looking around cautiously to make sure they hadn’t been seen. As soon as he was certain the coast was clear, André whipped his head around to face Laurens completely.

“What the hell were you thinking, standing out in the open like that? Do you _want_ to get shot?” 

“N-no! I was just...distracted.” Laurens tried, dropping his gaze after clearly failing to reassure his friend. 

“By what? All you should be thinking about is living. Living and winning. Nothing else.” André declared with a tone of finality, expression unchanging and stony. Laurens faltered slightly and suddenly became fidgety. 

“I just want this to be over. I’m _tired_ of spilling blood. I’m _sick_ of worrying that I won’t return to my family. I want to go home!” John covered his face with his hand, struggling to hold back a waterfall of tears. André looked on, hard expression softening as he watched his friend’s sanity slowly slip away. 

“Laurens, it’s okay. Just keep it down. Someone might hear you.” He hushed gently as he rubbed circles into the other solder’s back. 

_“Laurens-Hamilton,”_ He corrected, not bothering to move out of André’s touch. 

“R-right. Laurens-Hamilton. Look, my point is,” André continued. “You’ll be back home soon. Think about it. You’re family will be waiting, safe and happy, and you’ll be there to see it.”

John smiled at the thought; he could imagine Alexander and Philip standing outside of their small Yorktown home, tears in their eyes as they embraced John. They would finally be complete again. 

“You’re right, as always. Thanks, man.”

The two soldiers briefly embraced one another before the sound of distant voices caught their attention. Both men jolted up, guns cocked and postures tensed.

_“Shit.”_

André muttered softly as his eyes scanned the still battlefield for any approaching suits. John carefully peered through the grasses, grip automatically tightening around his gun as he desperately tried to silence his shaky breaths. The two waiting men suddenly noticed a small group of soldiers that they recognized from their own side. That was a good sign. 

Deciding it was best to stay undercover for the moment, Laurens-Hamilton and André watched their fellow soldiers as they examined the bodies scattered around the field, helping the still-alive men and momentarily leaving the dead ones, as they scribbled what one could assume was names into a notebook. 

John tensed when one of the suits suddenly turned towards the tall grasses where he hid. He attempted to slink back deeper into the marsh, but the soldier brought the rest of the group’s attention to the hidden John.

“Guys, look! It’s Laurens and André! They’ve been hiding the whole time!” The tall, buff soldier turned to his friends, a relieved smile stretched across his face. André lit up upon seeing his closest fiend.

“Tallmadge! Man, am I glad to see you,” He slowly stood up to follow Tallmadge, John in trail close behind. “What’s going on? Why’re you all out here?”

“We’ve got new rookie soldiers. They’re here to take your places for a couple weeks while the two of you return home for the time being.” 

Laurens-Hamilton couldn’t help but let out a cheery giggle at the news, and broke into a full-on laugh when André lifted him into a tight hug effortlessly. Tallmadge and the other soldiers wasted no time ushering their friends back to the base camp, where their General sat waiting, a small smile of his own appearing on his face. He approached the men slowly, smile vanishing, as if to remind them that none of this was over quite yet.

“Lieutenant Colonel Laurens, Colonel André. I am very proud of the two of you, and how you have handled the previous battle, despite the circumstances,” He said proudly. The two young men exchanged excited glances momentarily, straightening up once their commander started speaking again. “Though I am sending the two of you home for a while, keep in mind that I could, and very likely will, call the two of you back sooner or later. It pains me to have to tear you away from your families like that, but it must be gone. Understood?”

“Yessir.” The two said simultaneously. 

“Good. Now go to your tents and take a short rest. Your jet should arrive tomorrow at zero six hundred hours. Have a good break you two.” Before either of the men could thank the General, he briskly walked off in the direction of the camp’s entrance, presumably to introduce himself to the new rookies.  
~~~

The next morning came slower than a sloth can climb. John got little to no sleep that night, and it was all because of anxieties and excitement to see his family again. Now that he thought about it, John hadn’t seen them in nearly three years, which meant that Philip was nearly seventeen already. 

How time flew. 

“Laurens, let’s get a move on. Our jet’s gonna be here in twenty minutes. You don’t wanna miss your chance to go home, do you?” André spoke up, not failing to notice the hopeful smile that had practically glued itself to his friend’s face. 

“Of course not! I’m coming, just give me a few.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be outside.” André disappeared from sight, leaving John to stand in the tent alone. Realizing his backpack was still empty, he started to fill it with clothes that needed washing, a couple of occupied sketch pads, and he even managed to stuff a blanket the Washingtons had sent to him last Christmas into the bag. Before he knew it, nearly his entire side of the tent was empty, but one object still sat on top of the desk. A portrait of himself, Alexander, and Philip, standing in the middle of Central Park. John smiled nostalgically at the memory, picking up the photo and holding it over his heart. He vividly remembered spending almost every weekend in the park with his family; the way the innocent sounds of Philip’s boyish laughter carried effortlessly through his ears, that fluttery feeling he got everytime Alexander would kiss him on the cheek, and how complete he felt whenever he was around them. John let out a slow, tranquil breath and slipped the picture into his shirt pocket, slipping the backpack onto his remaining shoulder as he headed outside to meet André and the jet.

“Soon, _mes amours._ Soon.”


	2. Best of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georges/Philip fluff| Fathers-son dinner convo

_BOOM!_

The collective tumble of a heavy ball and wooden pins echoed throughout the bowling alley as a tall, lanky teenager fist-pumped in victory at his strike. 

“Whew! What is this, third in a row?” Georges Washington chirped as he poked at his jealous boyfriend’s frowning face. “And you said a foreigner could not bowl. I have showed you, mon amour!”

“Whatever, G. You just got lucky,” Philip scoffed, picking up his own bowling ball and walking towards the runway. “Watch me. I’ll make a strike like you, _then_ we’ll see who laughs. Just you wait!”

Georges rolled his eyes and comically watched from behind as Philip wound up with more force than necessary. He suddenly stopped when a distracting buzz from his back pocket halted him in his tracks. The contract number read, “Pops”.

“Damnit,” Philip muttered, placing the bowling ball down and walking over to his boyfriend’s side. “It’s my pops again. Probably texting to tell me that it’s _‘past curfew’._ ” He spat, putting finger-quotes around his last two words. Philip, standing quite a bit shorter than Georges despite being nearly six feet tall himself, didn’t even bother trying to hide the screen from Georges. 

“What does ton pére want?”

Philip didn’t respond right away, only now having opened the text. 

> Pops: come home now 

The teenager frowned at the oddly vague message. What did it mean? Did something bad happen? Was Alexander hurt? Or worse, did they get the news they’d both been dreading for nearly three years?

> P. Laurens-Hamilton: Why? What happened?

> P. Laurens-Hamilton: Are you okay?

To his luck, Alexander responded right away. 

> Pops: somoenes here to see you :)

“Dad!” Philip perked up, not bothering to correct his father’s texting grammar. Georges looked down at his boyfriend, worried. 

“Monsieur Laurens-Hamilton? Is he okay?” 

“Hope so!” Philip carelessly slipped his bowling shoes off and went to exchange them for his regular shoes. “He’s finally back in town, and just in time for my birthday!” 

“Oh, that is wonderful news! I shall let mon pére know. Surely he would like to know of it,” Georges said thoughtfully. “As well as Monsieur Mulligan! Oh, while the four of them are out at the bar, perhaps you and me can spend some time together at the house. Maybe watch a film, or take a nap together, or-“

“G.,” Philip cut his boyfriend off, relief and happiness replaced with guilt. “I kinda wanted it to be _just_ my dads and I tonight. I mean, you’re welcome to stay over tomorrow and whatnot, but maybe we can have our night another time?”

Georges’ smile instantly fell, part of him understanding, the other part wanting to curl up on himself in embarrassment. 

“I see, mon amour.” Was all the French native could say. 

The couple’s ride back to the Laurens-Hamilton house was oddly silent and stricken with a tension so thick, one could cut it with a knife. Philip, who was seated in the passengers seat, began to bounce his knee nervously. He knew deep down he’d been a little harsh in words to someone as sensitive as Georges, and felt bad for shooting down such an innocent offer. Without letting things get too awkward, Philip slipped his hand in to one of Georges’ free ones. 

“Hey,” He said gently. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you like that, it wasn’t right. I just really want to see my dad and wanted to spend some time with just him.”

Philip stole a glance at his boyfriend, who appeared to be softening slightly. Georges didn’t say anything, although it did look like Philip was getting through to him. 

“I still love you, G. It’s been that way since we were kids.” He muttered softly. 

Another beat of silence fell over the boyfriends, and Georges eventually opted to speak next after letting out a long sigh. 

“It is okay, Philip. I should have been more understanding towards you, perhaps considered your feelings rather than my own. Go ahead, spend time with your family. Monsieur Jean I’m sure would like to see his only son.” Georges finally turned his head slightly to look at Philip, who peered up at him with soft, hazel eyes. 

“Thanks, G. I’m glad you understand,” He stretched up slightly to give Georges a small kiss on the cheek, who gleefully returned it once they came to a stop. “You’re the best.”

“As are you, mon amour.”  
~~~

A few minutes later, Philip and Georges pulled up to the Laurens-Hamilton house. Philip barely gave the car a chance to completely stop before he attempted to climb out. He ran up to his house with speed Georges envied, and waited impatiently for his boyfriend to arrive. When he finally did, Georges slipped an arm around Philip’s slender shoulders. 

“Well? Are you going to knock?” 

“Y-yeah. Just gimme a second, okay?” Philip began to rock back and forth on his heels anxiously, suddenly looking up at Georges bashfully. “What if this is all a hoax? Maybe it wasn’t dad after all! Is Pops tricking me? Would he do that? Maybe we should go, I think I left something at the-“

“Philip, you are hesitating. Why may that be?” 

The shorter male shrugged a shoulder, only half-listening to his date. “I dunno. Guess I’m a little nervous is all.”

Georges gave Philip a comforting squeeze before turning to knock on the door himself, Philip quickly catching his hand once he did so. 

“G.! What the _hell_ was that? I wasn’t rea-“

The door suddenly opened, and a certain green-eyed, curly-haired man stood at the other side of the door. He wore a shocked expression; one that showed a mix between pride, disbelief, and excitement. 

“Pip!” John exclaimed tearfully, barely giving his son a chance to register what was happening.

The two embraced with as much strength as possible, the task being harder when you only had one arm. Philip and John didn’t break apart for nearly five minutes, and Georges didn’t bother coming in between. He knew this was a big deal for the little family, and had no intentions on ruining the moment. 

John finally looked up at Georges, who bowed in an awkward, yet polite, manner. 

“Bonjour, Monsieur Laurens-Hamilton. Welcome back home. Thank you for serving our country.” He said quicker than he would’ve liked to. After all, he was in front of his boyfriend’s father, who he knew could, and would, kick his ass with ease. 

Rather than looking defensive, John smiled, nodding at Georges. “You’re very welcome. And thank you for keeping Philip out of trouble.” He smirked, nudging an embarrassed Philip with his elbow. 

_“Dad! Stop!”_ Philip hissed under his breath, choosing to look away from his laughing father and chuckling boyfriend. 

“Well, I am afraid I must go. I understand that the three of you would like to spend time together,” Georges nodded after a moment, smiling to the men who stood before him. “I wish to see you soon, Monsieur. And as for you, mon amour,” Georges planted a kiss on Philip’s forehead. “I will see you soon. Goodbye!”

Philip stood, beet-red, not bothering to say goodbye to his boyfriend. John on the other hand, chuckled and waved back at him.

“Now,” John turned to his son, who still stood tense and flushed. “Let’s go get Pops. We’ll go out to eat tonight, the three of us. Just like old times. Okay?”

Philip finally seemed to snap out of his little moment and looked up at his father, a small smile on his face. 

“Yeah sounds good, Dad.”  
~~~

Philip, Alexander, and John all sat at their respective table in the restaurant as they waited for their food to arrive. Philip quietly listened to his fathers’ conversation, not failing to pick up on how absolutely _enamored_ Alexander looked as he listened to John’s story. 

Deep down, the teenager felt bad for his father. He knew how much Alexander loved his husband, and knew that he was trying his best to spend every last minute with John before he had to leave again. Philip smiled sadly when Alexander scooted his chair directly beside John’s, barely giving the soldier any personal space. Of course, he didn’t seem to mind, and kept on with his story.

“...And ended up being really cool about it. He let André and I go home for a little, and now, here I am!”

“You’re staying this time, right Dad?” Philip butted in, forgetting his manners for a moment. He instantly regretted asking, upon noticing John’s smile wipe off of his face, which didn’t go unnoticed by Alexander. John made brief eye contact with his husband before taking a deep breath, readying himself for the explanation.

“I wish I could, guys. But the general told us we’d more than likely be called back in the next couple of weeks.” John said weakly as he brought the silent Alexander into a hug. Philip nodded solemnly, then jumped as sudden realization struck him. 

“Wait, you said a couple of weeks?”

“Yes.”

“B-but that means you’ll miss my birthday again. For the third time in a row.” He said in a small voice, more to himself than to anyone else. Philip could feel his father’s pitiful gaze on his slouched figure, of which, he didn’t bother acknowledging yet. 

The table soon fell into a heavy silence, no one daring to say anything until it washed over. A few tenacious moments slowly ticked by, and John suddenly grabbed his glass, forcing a smile onto his face. 

“Let’s not think about the sad stuff, guys. Grab your glasses, let’s toast. To freedom!”

Alexander nodded, cracking a pained smile, before following suit. “To freedom.”

Philip grabbed his water, which was nearly empty by this time, and clinked his glass against his fathers’. 

“To freedom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s the ship name for Georges/Philip? I thought “Philes” but I wasn’t sure ^^’


End file.
